ind which had offered such a problem both to
the professional and unprofessional detective. Two mis-mated shoes! Had
Gwendolen Ocumpaugh by any chance worn such? No--or the ones mating them
would have been found in her closet, and this, some one shouted out, had
not been done. Only the one corresponding to that fished up from the
waters of the dock had come to light; the other, the one which the child
must really have worn, was no nearer being found than the child herself.
What did it all mean? No one knew; but all attempted some sort of
hazardous guess which I was happy to see fell entirely short of the
mark.

There was not a word of the vindictive old man described by Miss Graham,
till I myself introduced the topic. My reason or rather my excuse for
introducing it was this:

On the gate-post near me I had observed the remnants of a strip of paper
which had been pasted there and afterward imperfectly torn off. It had
an unsightly look, but I did not pay much attention to it till some
movement in the group forced me a little nearer to the post, when I was
surprised enough to see that this scrap of paper showed signs of words,
and that these words gave evidence of being a date written in the very
hand I now had no difficulty in recognizing as that of the old man
uppermost in my own mind, even if he were not the one whom Miss Graham
had seen on the bridge. This date--strange to say--was the same
significant one already noted on the floor of the bungalow--a fact which
I felt merited an explanation if any one about me could give it.

Waiting, therefore, for a lull in the remarks passing between the
stable-men and other employees about the place, I drew the attention of
the first man who would listen, to the half torn-off strip of paper on
the post, and asked if that was the way the Ocumpaughs gave notice of
their entertainments.

He started, then turned his back on me.

"That wasn't put there for the entertainment," he growled; "that was
pasted up there by some one who wanted to show off his writin'. There
don't seem to be no other reason."

As the man who spoke these words had thereby proved himself a blockhead,
I edged away from him as soon as possible toward a very decent looking
fellow who appeared to have more brains than speech.

"Do you know who pasted that date upon the post?" I inquired.

He answered very directly.

"No, or I should have been laying for him long before this. Why, it is
not only there you